


Two Men & A Baby

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky provides back-up as Hutch faces down...a 4-month-old baby. Prequel to "Toddler Troubles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Men & A Baby

Written: 1997

First published in "Better Together" (1997)

The call scared me.  It's no secret that I'm kinda fond of my hulking blond partner, and so when he called and all he said was a panicky, "Starsky, I need your help!", well, it wasn't hard to imagine the worst.  Especially having gone through some of the things Hutch and I have.  I couldn't make the Torino go fast enough to suit me for once, and all I could think about the whole way was the last time I'd gotten a call like that from him, about a year ago.  Hutch had accident-ally gotten into something way over his head and disappeared on me for two days.  I was goin' crazy, thinkin' about all the creeps who had a score to settle with him, and then he called, scared and hurt, from San Diego, askin' for help.  Not that I minded goin' to get him, y'know, it's just that sometimes I wish he'd call before he did something stupid and got in too deep.  But that's a whole other chapter on Hutch.

He was at home this time, which was a little relief even though it still brought back some bad memories about Bellamy and his idea of fun and games at my place.  Sometimes, it seems Hutch and I are on sick leave more than at work.  Anyway, I finally got there, didn't even really bother to park the car, and ran upstairs, tryin' to prepare myself for what I was gonna find.  I tore through the door and skidded to a stop, shocked at what I saw.

Hutch, lookin' flustered and very worried.  Holdin' a baby.

Now, I've seen my partner sick, terrified, in pain, strung out, delirious, exhausted, and distraught.  It never got me used to seein' Hutch hurtin', but at least I thought we'd seen it all.  I was wrong.  

We stared at each other for a bit.  After my heart started up again and I realized that I wasn't out a partner, after all, I wanted to laugh.  That, or wring his neck, whichever.  The only reason I didn't was because Hutch really did look a little scared and desperate.  I'd learned early on that there were some times you just couldn't tease Hutch or it got him upset.  And I could tell this was one o' those times.   So, it was up to me to coax him out of it.

First things first.  "You okay?"

The baby was fussin', had been ever since I got there, so Hutch had to talk louder to make himself heard.  Although I think he'd have yelled, anyway, baby or no.  "Do I look okay?!"

I thought about that one a minute.  Trick question; I thought he looked hilarious.  But Hutch asks a lot of those, uh, rhe-torah-cal questions that I don't think he really wants an answer to, and this seemed like one of 'em.  So I ignored it and, very seriously, asked, "What's goin' on?"

"I got home this afternoon and found… this on my doorstep."

"Looks like a baby," I tried helpfully.

I don't know who Hutch was gettin' more exasperated with, me or the baby.  "Of course it's a baby.  Mickey left it with a note."  He almost flung the piece of paper toward me that had been clenched in his hand so tightly, it was all wrinkled up.  

It occurred to me now that I still hadn't closed the door, and Mrs. Johnson from across the hall just loved listenin' in on whatever was goin' on, so I turned around and shut the door first.   I didn't miss how Hutch got all tense for a minute as I turned away – probably thought I was leavin'.  The _shmegegge_ , trusts me with his life but still, deep down, always seems scared I'm gonna cut out on him.  Well, if it took the rest of my life to show him that I was kinda used to his face and I wasn't goin' nowhere, I was willin'.  Seems like a really small price to pay for someone who's always there for me.  

Anyway, I shut the door and then stepped forward to see the note.  Had to pry his fingers off of it; they were all white from bein' tense.  But he looked a little relieved that I seemed to be stayin', and I smiled back at him fondly.  Hutch can be a pain, but he's still mine, and that means I have to take care o' him.  Which meant figurin' out what was goin' on now and how I could help.

The note was short and typically Mickey.  

_ Dear Hutch,  _

_ This is Mark.  He's four months old and he belongs to a friend of mine who had to go away _

_ for a while and left me to take care of him, only I gotta go away this weekend to see someone.   _

_ I knew you wouldn't mind taking care of him for the weekend – you were the only one I could _

_  think of that I could trust.  He's really sweet, just feed him every three hours and let him sleep _

_  a lot.  Babies do that.  He won't be any trouble.  I'll be back Sunday.  Thanks a million!  _

_  –Mickey _

_ For the weekend! _   I looked up, surprised, into harried blue eyes.  

As usual, we were thinkin' the same thing.  "Two days, Starsk!" he said, gettin' all excit-ed.  "What am I gonna do with a baby for two days?!"

It was just beginnin' to sink in that this was what my brave, detective sergeant partner had called me in a panic about, nearly givin' me a heart attack.  He didn't know what to do with a 15 pound baby.  This time, there was no doubt about it: I definitely wanted to wring his neck.  But, as I saw it, I had two choices.  One, I could leave.  If the man could solve a double-homicide in 72 hours, this couldn't be too much harder.  Hutch an' me, we've sorta stretched partnership to include just about everything else in our lives besides the job, but you had to draw the line somewhere….  Or, two, I could stay and give him a hand, and probably end up roped into stickin' around all weekend. 

I chose number two because, frankly, I like sleepin' on Hutch's lumpy couch and tryin' to make something greasy and fattening outta wheat germ and blackstrap molasses, and I think I'd kinda miss that.

I looked the situation over.  The baby wasn't very big, but it had large, dark eyes and lots o' hair.  Actually, it looked pretty cute.  Except that, at the moment, it was red and crying.  Hutch wasn't much helpin' with that; he held it like he was restraining a perp, across the chest, hugging it close to him, facing outward.  I had to cringe – you could tell he hadn't grown up around any babies.  Christine was only a coupla years younger than he was, after all, but you'd think he woulda picked up somethin' from watchin' her with her kids….  Anyway, it was time to save the baby from my partner.  Or vice versa.

"Well, for one thing," I said, stepping forward to take Mark myself, "you're holdin' him wrong.  Babies don't like just hangin' in the air."  I turned the poor thing around and carefully laid it against my shoulder, restin' its bottom on my arm.  "See?  Ya gotta support him."

Mark, I happily noted, stopped crying.  Hutch looked like he was tryin' to figure out if he was grateful or annoyed.  He likes teachin' a lot more than bein' taught, helps him feel in con-trol.  S'okay with me, I figure I have a lot to learn.  But this time, it looked like I was gonna have to give a few lessons.

"Is there any formula for him?" I asked next.  I knew the quiet was only a temporary re-prieve.

"Huh?"  My silver-tongued partner.  Oy.  "Oh, uh," he turned to a basket that I'd noticed sitting on the couch earlier, and pulled out a container of powder.  "Yeah," he held it out to me.  

"And a bottle?" I added patiently.  Another confused look, followed by a second search through the bag.  Success.  He pulled out the bottle and waited for further instructions.  I swear, sometimes I wonder if people have ever seen this side of my partner when they call me a kid.  "The instructions oughta be on the container, Hutch.  Mix up a bottle."

This time, he managed to get movin' and do it himself.  I just shook my head.  I didn't give him a hard time about it, though; things hadn't been easy on Hutch lately, and although I don't think he'd noticed how much it'd taken out of him, I had.  Jack Mitchell's death had hit him hard-er than he'd been willing to admit then, and I'd just gotten him to crawl outta that shell when he lost Gillian, too.  For a little while, I think I was the only thing that was keepin' him going, but there's a strength in Hutch that more than matches any streak of stubbornness in me, and I think we did get most of the pieces back together.  Things were just a little shaky, still, though, and if he needed help to deal with an unexpected baby temporarily in his life, well, I could cer-tainly provide back-up.  

By the time Hutch got back with the bottle, I was sittin' on the couch and Mark was beginnin' to get fussy.  I had tried every position I know, but the little guy was hungry.  I held him out to Hutch.

He looked at me, surprised.  "I can't feed him!"

I grinned.  " 'Course ya can.  It's not that hard, just sit down with him and…"

He was shakin' his head.  "Uh-uh.  He likes you, you do it."

"C'mon, partner, you're not chicken, are you?"

"Yeah."  Completely without embarrassment.

I sighed.  "Okay," I grumbled, "but you're gonna have to learn how to do this, too."

He grinned.

I scowled.  

I knew it, it was gonna be a long weekend, after all.  

Mark fell asleep while eating, and we ended up improvising a bed for him in one of Hutch's dresser drawers.  Seemed kinda kinky t'me, but the baby liked it, so who was I to argue?  Then, we ordered out for pizza and I turned on the evening movie.  _Serpico._   I'd seen it before but Hutch hadn't, so we ended up watchin' it together.  It dawned on me how much I'd missed doin' that kinda stuff with him for a while.  Felt like we'd been in crisis mode for a long time, now, and just puttin' our feet up together had gotten t'be a luxury.  But we need stuff like that, espe-cially Hutch.  I just noticed that his shoulders were beginnin' to lose their stiffness, when Mark started to cry.

"Stay there, I'll get him," I ordered, already seein' the tension in his face.  Man, how did I miss that things were getting this bad?

I came back a minute later with a sleepy, damp baby.  Hutch eyed us both warily as I  silently took a diaper out of the basket and changed the kid on the sofa.

"Where'd you learn to take care of babies like that?"  The voice was soft and didn't have any of the earlier challenge in it.  I don't know which I was more, relieved or concerned.  Hutch's voice only gets soft like that out of caring or hurting, and I wasn't sure which one it was this time.

"When Ma sent me out here to live with my Uncle Al and Aunt Rosie, mosta the kids were older than me n' either ignored me or didn't like me.  But then she had another one.  When Rachel was born, I spent a lotta time with her.  Learned a lot about little kids."  My voice had gotten kinda quiet; I don't mind sharin' with Hutch, but those weren't very good memories.  I still had my suspicions that Uncle Al had been on the shady side, and Aunt Rosie tried but was too busy with her own kids to worry too much about her sister's.  And I had missed Ma and Nicky some-thin' fierce back then.  Rach had been one of the few bright spots.  

That was a long time ago, though, just a snot-nosed kid's memories.  I finished Mark and looked up at my partner with a grin, right into a soft, understanding pair of blue eyes and a gentle smile.  Surprised me for a minute, then I smiled back, for real this time.  Shoulda figured he'd understand.  

Before things got too soapy, though, I picked up Mark and, before my partner could do anything, settled him in Hutch's lap.

"Starsky…!"

"It's okay, he won't bite, and it's your turn t'hold him.  Here," I struggled to adjust long limbs to cradle instead of cling, "just hold him like… there, and then put your arm– no!  Not like that!"  I was beginnin' to wonder if Hutch's kids would ever make it past infanthood.  I fi-nally got Mark settled in his arms.  Big, dark eyes stared back at wide, sky blue ones as the two appraised each other.  They both seemed to like what they saw.  Hutch relaxed a little bit and the baby started making bubblin' sounds.  

Fascinated, my tough partner leaned in closer to watch.  "Hey, Mark," he said softly after a minute, "how are you, huh?  My name is Hutch."  All seriousness.

Feeling very content, I leaned back to grin at the TV.

By the time Mark started getting fussy again, Serpico had gotten half his face blown off and I was startin' to get sleepy.  Hutch finally pushed Mark into my lap and almost ran into the kitchen to make some more formula.  Grinning at the quick exit, I started playin' with the kid.  He really was a cute baby, looked real bright and serious.  Reminded me of a certain blond I knew.  He also seemed to like me and settled right down for me; score two for baby Mark.  Didn't seem like Hutch took long enough to get back with the bottle.  

"Here," I offered him Mark again, who was, at the moment, furiously sucking on his fist.  

Hutch shook his head.  "That's okay, you can do it."  

Coward.  I was gettin' a little impatient.  "Hutch, you can't hurt him and it's not that hard.  You just hold him and the bottle and he does the rest."

Blondie was beginnin' to look more uncomfortable than when I eat a peanut butter and jelly taco in front of him.  "Starsk…"

Hutch may not be able to say no to me when I really lay it on thick, but there isn't much I can deny him when he gets all soft and shy and uncomfortable, either.  Let alone all the stuff I put up with when he's bein' pushy and needin' to be in charge.  "Okay, okay," I fussed.  "But you gotta do it one of these times."  Couldn't let him get off too easy.  

Mark was a hungry guy.  He drank his bottle fast, and then I burped him again.  Hutch was pretendin' not to be interested, flippin' through a book, but I could tell he was watchin' us.  I grinned to myself again – I'd make a babysitter out of him yet.  

We were all kinda gettin' sleepy by then, so I put Mark back in his bed and then had fun watchin' my partner fidget nervously while the little guy cried himself t'sleep.

"Starsk, you sure we shouldn't pick him up?  Something could be wrong with him, or–"

"Naw, he's fine," I explained patiently for the fourth time already.  "Babies need to cry a little, helps their lungs.  And we can't keep pickin' him up or he'll get spoiled."

Hutch didn't seem convinced, but he shut up.  He couldn't seem t'stay seated, though, always goin' to check around the partition t'make sure the baby wasn't dyin' on him.  I hadn't thought before about how a little baby would turn on Hutch's protective side full blast.  It was kinda interestin'; he was only usually like that when I was in trouble, only then I wouldn't be there or'd be too out-of-it to notice much.  Guess when it comes down to it, I'm not much differ-ent, either.  Except, I only have to worry about blondie.  He worries about the whole world.  

I think we were both relieved when Mark finally settled down and went to sleep.  Hutch came and folded up on the couch next to me, and I reached over to rub at his neck, gettin' him t' loosen up a little.  He loves those back and neck rubs, the big baby, but he often won't let me do it, too busy playin' the tough guy to let himself be taken care of.  Sometimes, I think he forgets that bein' a partner means acceptin', too, not just givin'.  But it makes me really appreciate times like this when he lets himself go and doesn't try t'hide behind Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson.  This is my Hutch.    

After a couple of minutes, his eyes were shut and mine were beginnin' to droop, too.  It'd been a long day in a long week.  "Hey," I pulled my hand away and poked his arm.  

"Mmm?"  I'm not even sure he was half-awake.  

"You mind if I crash on your couch tonight?  I'm kinda beat."

"Mm-mm."  He was definitely mostly asleep.  I was almost sorry to bother him, except that the couch wasn't really big enough for one, let alone two, and I knew sleeping in that posi-tion would kill his neck, anyway.  

"Hey," I poked him again.  This time, one eye reluctantly opened to look at me.  "Get off my bed, then," I complained.

He frowned, eyes shutting again.  I sighed.  When Hutch crashed, he really crashed.  "Come on," I prodded, pullin' myself up on my feet and then hauling Hutch up, too.  I pointed him in the direction of his bed and then watched, grinning, as first he stumbled into the partition, then, with a sheepish glance back at me, went around it and fell into bed, clothes and all.  I groaned and went after him to at least pull his shoes off and throw a blanket over him, then I fetched a blanket and a pillow from his closet and managed to stay awake long enough to do the same myself.  I think I was asleep before I was even lyin' all the way down.

The noise was loud and didn't want to go away, no matter how much I really tried to pretend it wasn't there.  I reached out for the alarm clock and banged my hand in a table that shouldn't have been there.  That woke me up.  It finally hit me that I wasn't in my bed, wasn't even at home, and that it wasn't my alarm clock that was hollerin', it was a baby.  I was just tryin' to crawl out of bed when Mark suddenly stopped cryin'.  Curious, I poked my head over the couch.

Hutch sat on the edge of the bed visible around the partition, gingerly holdin' the baby as if it would break.  At least he was holdin' him right, Mark stretched out on his arms, the dark head cupped in one of Hutch's big hands, feet propped against my partner's stomach.  The baby had stopped cryin' and was starin' at Hutch – I don't know who was more interested in who.  I smiled and buried myself in bed again, listenin' drowsily as Hutch talked softly to Mark.  I couldn't hear what he was sayin', but what mattered was that both of them were happy.  

After a few minutes, I could hear blondie puttering around in the kitchen, still talkin', and next thing I knew, he was standin' by me, holdin' out Mark and a bottle.  I didn't ask how he managed to get the bottle ready while holdin' Mark, I think I was still too asleep for that.  But I did frown as I sat up and took the baby and the bottle.  "Okay, but this is the last time," I muttered.  Hutch just grinned.  

I finally got a good look at my partner for the first time that morning, and was secretly pleased to see that he looked more rested and… at peace, than he had for a long time.  I wondered what had caused the change, then decided it really didn't matter.  As long as it worked.  He'd also been out joggin', and he went off to take a shower while I fed Mark.

I'd just finished changin' Mark's diaper when he reappeared, lookin' all fresh, dressed.  I, on the other hand, was beginnin' to get grumpy.  I had used up my fresh clothes that I kept there earlier that week and hadn't bothered to replace them yet, and so I was stuck in last night's clothes, without a shower, because Hutch wanted help with a baby.  Except I was doin' every-thing.  "Okay, hotshot," I pushed Mark into his arms, "we're goin' for a ride."

He blinked at me.  "Where?"

"My place.  I'm not gonna spend my whole weekend here," I grumbled.

He was pretty good at reading me, too, and knew when to shut up.  He took Mark without a word and, by the time I'd gotten my shoes and jacket on, had the baby tucked back into the bas-ket, wrapped in a blanket.  Almost cocooned, in fact.  It was a wonder Mark could breathe.  I sighed long-sufferingly.  "Not so tight," I reached over, loosening the blanket a little.  

"Oh… right."  This time he gave me a lopsided grin, hesitant and hopeful all at once.  I couldn't resist; I shook my head and grinned back.  Guess I'm rubbing off on him.

It took some doin' to get the basket wedged in the car and seatbelted right, but then the trip was no problem.  Even if Hutch spent most of it half-turned in his seat, checking to make sure Mark was okay.  He didn't have to worry; Mark played with his hands and talked to himself most of the way.  Talks more than Hutch does, in fact.  Which isn't sayin' much.

At my place, I left Hutch and Mark in the living room while I took a long, hot shower.  I'd slept on Hutch's couch before enough to know how to do it without killin' my back, but it always left me with a coupla kinks.  I finished gettin' dressed, and opened the door slowly with one hand while tryin' to get my hair untangled with the other.  I stopped when I heard the singing.

Hutch was sittin' on the couch with his back to me.  His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders hunched up as he cradled Mark in his arms and looked down at him.  And sang to him.  Mark and I listened silently.

Y'know, Hutch doesn't just sing for anyone.  He does it for some of his ladies, I've heard him, and every once in a while, he loosens up enough at a party to do some songs.  And he's sung to me, sometimes, usually when one of us was hurtin'.  I can still remember him singin' quietly until I fell asleep after we got home from Helen's funeral.  But those were all rare occasions, times when it seemed he couldn't say what he wanted to any way but in music.  

I'd never heard the song before, but it sounded like a lullaby.  I waited until he finished before I walked up behind him, even though I knew he'd known I was standin' there, listenin', and I knew he knew I knew.  I don't think either of us can sneak up on the other anymore.  But he didn't seem embarrassed about it, just turned a little to show me that Mark had dozed off in his arms.  And there was an expression on Hutch's face that I hadn't seen too many times before.  It was like… seein' right into his heart.  I think you can count on one hand the number of people Hutch has let see him like that.  I know I'm one of 'em, and that's always been real important to me.  When someone trusts you like that, ain't nothin' you shouldn't do for them.  

Anyway, I left Hutch holding the baby while I went to dig around for some leftovers for breakfast, not hurryin' to get back.  My Aunt Rosie had always said that there wasn't any heart-ache in the world that couldn't be eased by holdin' a sleepin' baby, and I was beginnin' to think she was right.

Hutch held Mark for the next two hours while the little guy slept.  My partner didn't seem anxious to get rid of him, and I finally made myself scarce and let the two of them be.

When I began to hear baby noises again – Hutch wasn't about to let him cry – I dug out the formula and the bottle and washed the bottle out before mixing up the next batch.  I watched my tough partner and a 4-month-old baby giggle at each other while it was heating up, then, sorry to interrupt their conversation, came out to give the bottle to Hutch.  He stared up at me uncer-tainly, and I began to wonder if the man was completely foolin' himself.

"G'wan, give it to him," I encouraged, "you're holdin' him, anyway."

It didn't take much coaxing this time; Hutch is a natural born mother.  Only, I coulda told you that already.

I had planned a mornin' full of errands for Saturday, especially as we'd been too busy all week to do much of anything but grab pizza on the way home each night and eat it half-asleep before collapsing into bed.  I didn't see why I should change my plans any.  As far as I was con-cerned, Hutch had figured out this parenting thing enough that he didn't need me anymore.  But my partner, well, he tends to worry about stuff too much, and he seemed convinced that the minute I walked out the door, Mark would have some kind of emergency that needed my exper-tise.  To be honest, I was gettin' kinda fond of the kid, myself, and so I couldn't really say I minded them sticking around.  Which is how we ended up running errands with a baby.

Now, last time I'd taken care of a baby, I'd been 12.  I was a grown-up 12, had already seen a lot more than most kids that age, but there were still some things I hadn't learned about babies.  Like, for one thing, they're natural girl-magnets.  Hutch started out carryin' the baby into stores himself because, well, it was "his" baby and he was havin' fun.  But after the fifth or so lovely creature who stopped and came over to play with Mark and talk to my partner, I think he was startin' to really enjoy himself.  Wouldn't even dream of lettin' me have a turn.  I just made sure I stood close by so they could tell we were together.

The other thing I learned about babies now was that you couldn't take 'em everywhere.  Or, at least, according to Hutch you couldn't.

"Starsky, we can't go in there," Hutch pointed at the barbershop.  I turned to stare at him, contenting myself that my partner had lost his mind.

"Why not?"

"Well, you know what kind of language they use in there sometimes!  It wouldn't be good for Mark to hear."  He defensively pulled up the blanket a little around Mark's neck as if **I** were a threat to the little guy.  I finally had enough.

"Look **.**   First, you don't want to stop at Merl's because it's too noisy.  Then, you don't want to go to the grocery store because it's too cold.  And now, you're scared of the barbershop because of what somebody might say?!  Hutch, Mark can't understand a word yet!"  My partner was cringing, but I think more because he was worried about Mark hearin' me yellin' than because he was at all embarrassed about the way he was acting.  After a moment, he at least had the decency to look a little foolish.  Which Hutch does very well.

"Guess I'm going a little overboard, huh?" he asked shyly.

I was really tryin' hard to stay annoyed, but it wasn't workin'.  "I guess so."

He blew out a sigh.  "I'm sorry, I'm just kinda new at this."

"Hutch," I said with more patience than I felt, "people have been doin' stuff with babies for a long time now.  They take 'em to stores and mechanics and work and all kinds'a other places all the time.  It's never hurt them yet."

Hutch nodded, looking down at the seat.  This time, **I** felt a little protective.  "Hey," I said softly.  I waited till he looked up at me, then grinned at him.  "You're gonna make one heck of a dad someday."

The real joy in the grin he gave me stayed with me the rest of the day.

I think errands wore everybody out.  Once I managed to get blondie to loosen up a little, we ended up goin' all over the place and takin' care of every chore I could think of for the next month.  I hadn't realized how tiring it was going somewhere with a baby, though – not just holdin' it, which Hutch didn't let me do much, anyway, but also gettin' it in and out of the car, worryin' about it not bein' too cold or hot, keepin' it happy when it fussed.  I was beginnin' to see my mom in a whole new light.  

Mark was tired, too, by the time we got home, but he was even more hungry.  He wailed loud enough to wake the dead while I tried to get his bottle ready as quick as I could.  Hutch was lookin' kinda frazzled by the time I got back to him.  

"What took you so long?" he mumbled as he dropped into the couch and stuck the bottle into Mark's mouth.  The wailing stopped all at once.

I ignored Hutch like I often do.  "You're gettin' pretty good at that," I commented instead.

He looked up at me with a smile.  "I had a good teacher."

Wisecracks I can deal with, but sincerity always throws me for a loop.  Although I've learned a lot since I met Hutch.  If that's what he wanted, I was willing to try even if it didn't come so easy for me.  "Y'know, I meant what I said.  I think you'll make a great dad."

Hutch shifted the baby into a more comfortable position.  I knew a delaying tactic when I saw one, and I suddenly wondered if I'd pushed more than I oughta have.  Then, he said softly, "I've thought about it."

"Yeah?"  I knew Hutch liked kids, but this was the first we'd really talked about it.

"Yeah.  Only… it just never was right.  Van didn't want any kids, didn't want the hassle."  I could hear the heaviness in his voice and was sorry all at once I'd brought the matter up.  I felt like reachin' out, but I held back, wanting to hear what he had to say.  "I thought for a while that if… then things might've been different, but I don't think so.  It would've just been one more thing between us, and we'd have screwed up another person's life besides our own."  He looked up at me, eyes soft and sad.  Oh, partner.  "Abby and I talked about it a little, but I think we both knew that it wasn't going to happen.  And Gillian–" his voice caught a little.  This time I did reach out, putting a hand on his knee, letting him know I was sorry even if he already knew.  He took a breath.  "Gillian and I were living in some fantasy world."  The voice wasn't bitter, just empty with past regret.  I was a little surprised at the words; I'd figured that out a while ago, but I hadn't realized Hutch had, too.  I knew it hurt, but that it was also the only way he was really gonna get over it.

Neither of us said anything for a while.  I didn't know how to say what was in my heart, so I just sat with my hand still on Hutch's knee, knowing that he could hear it, anyway.  And I watched him watch the baby while it ate, hearing everything he couldn't say, either.  But I could tell his heart was beginnin' to heal and that things were gonna be all right.  I guess as long as we could deal with them together, they always would be.  

I finally grinned a little.  "Y'know, we never talk about this kinda stuff," I said casually, pulling my hand back.

The blond head came up, eyes lightened.  "Do you want to?"

"Nope," I said cheerfully.

"Me neither," he said, and grinned back.  We both understood.  

I couldn't tell ya what we did that afternoon, except that it seemed to go by pretty fast.  We both played with Mark for a while, and I turned my place upside-down lookin' for stuff that could pass as baby toys.  That was never anything I'd considered stocking up on, so Mark had to make do with a spoon, a little jar I put some washers in so it would rattle, and an empty spool of thread.  Hutch made a face – one day and the guy thinks he's Dr. Spock – but he rattled the jar readily enough for Mark and watched in amazement as the kid enjoyed chewin' on the plastic spoon.   He wouldn't even let me feed the little guy now, but I was kinda enjoyin' watchin' this side of my partner that he hadn't been lettin' out too much recently, so I didn't mind.  I did get to hold Mark for a while while Hutch made dinner: lasagna, something we could both agree on.  Al-though, I think he only made that 'cause he was in my kitchen and I don't have any of that healthy junk he usually putters with.  Thank God.

After dinner, I introduced my partner to the joy of diapers.  A messy one woulda been cruel, I gotta admit, but a wet diaper seemed fair enough.  After all, whose kid was this?  For the weekend, I mean.  

"See, this is a diaper," I began authoritatively, holding it up.  

Hutch looked chagrined.  "No kidding."

I made a face at him.  "D'you wanna do this by yourself?"

My partner suddenly became very contrite.  "No, go on, I'm listening."

Satisfied, I pointed to the pins that fastened the wet diaper.  "First, you gotta take those off."  I waited until blondie finished that, then grinned.  "Okay, now just pull the diaper back like that," I demonstrated, "then lift his legs up and pull the it out from under him."

Nose wrinkled in disgust, Hutch followed suit.  

"Good.  You can stick that in that bag, there; we can soak it later."  I could tell how much he was lookin' forward to that.  "Now, you fold this like this," I folded the diaper in half, "and put it under like…"  I showed him where to tuck and pin, and we finally managed to get junior changed.  Mark had been really good for the whole thing; Rach used to try and get away each time I'd had to do hers, and it always took a workout to get her changed.  Figures – seems like gullible women, dogs, and babies are all suckers for my partner.  Mark looked at Hutch and laughed, and Hutch laughed back.  I just shook my head.

Mark had been up a lot more that day than 4-month-old babies usually are, I think, and he was gettin' pretty worn out by early evenin', fussin' no matter how much Hutch walked around with him.  We finally decided that it was time to get him back to his bed, which meant goin' back to Hutch's place.  There didn't seem to be any question that I was expected to go along, too, so I packed a bag this time and left with them.

By the time we got to Venice, Mark was cryin' hard, couldn't seem to settle down.  All I could think I had an idea.

"Why don't you try singin' to him?" I asked Hutch.

"What?!"  He looked at me as if I'd just recommended he throw the baby out the window.  Which was a little exasperatin', seein' as this was his idea first.

"He liked it when you sang to him before, why don't you try it again?" I offered.

Hutch isn't very subtle when he gets embarrassed; his whole face turns pink.  One of the curses a' bein' a blond.  I grinned as the blush spread across his cheeks.  

"Don't worry, Mark's too little t'complain about your singin'," I added.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're insufferable sometimes?" Hutch groused, shifting Mark off his shoulder.

I laughed as I walked to the bathroom.  "No, but I think someone's gonna."  Then I got out of there before he thought up some comeback.  Also giving him, by the way, some privacy to get comfortable with Mark.  Funny, Hutch never is embarrassed about anything when it's just the two of us, not really, but add just one other person and suddenly he turns all shy and stuttery, even if it was just a little baby.  I don't know what he's afraid of, letting someone else see him like I do, or letting me see him play Det. Sgt. Kenneth Hutchinson.  Or maybe, in this case, it was just a little too much honesty for both of us.  We usually didn't have t'be that obvious with each other.  

I managed to take my time in the bathroom, gettin' ready for bed, while I could just barely hear him singin' outside.  Seemed to be workin', too – I didn't hear Mark anymore.  I came out when he stopped, but didn't miss the quick, grateful glance he gave me for havin' given him his space.  I smiled to myself.  Y'know, I don't think I'll ever get tired of Hutch because, just when I think I got that blond head of his figured out, he does somethin' else unpredictable on me.  Makes life interestin'.  

Mark was asleep when I got back out there, so we put him to bed and had another quiet evening in.  Hutch dozed off on the couch while I watched another movie, stayin' up for the mid-night creature-feature so that I could give Mark a late feeding and change.  Blondie slept through the whole thing; guess he'd been more worn out from the week than I'd thought.  'Course, he also got up at those gosh-awful hours in the mornin'.  I got him off to bed again, except this time I don't even think he woke up.  And I set up camp on the couch.

Somewhere during the night, Mark musta woken up.  Hutch's the lighter sleeper of the two of us, unless I'm sleepin' with half-an-ear, listenin' for something.  Next thing I knew, he was sittin' on the edge of the couch, feeding Mark, still half-asleep.  I wasn't taking too kindly to being woken up, but I moved over to make room for them.  It wasn't very comfortable; I finally ended up sitting up and using Hutch's arm for a pillow.  Figured he might as well be useful if he was there, and I'd wake up when he was done, anyway.  Only, I think he and Mark both fell asleep during the process.  We spent the rest of the night in a pile on the couch.  

Banging and voices woke me up.  I looked around blearily; Hutch was already gettin' up, Mark still in his arms.  I only half-listened as he padded over to the door, but the loud greeting he got when he opened the door made me wake up completely.  I sat up as Mickey breezed into the room, talking a mile a minute.

"Hutch!  Thank you so much for taking care of Mark!  I had to go see somebody about a job over in San Diego and I didn't get it, but he gave me the name of someone in town who might be able to give me a job.  Isn't that great?!  Anyway, I just had to go up there this weekend, and I have Mark with me till tonight, 'cause my friend Celia went away with her husband for a week and I offered to babysit, and I couldn't think of anyone to leave Mark with until I thought of you and I knew that you'd take good care of him.  You didn't mind, did you?"  Hutch opened his mouth, but Mickey didn't wait.  "I knew you wouldn't.  And I didn't have time to wait for you to get home, so I left Mark at your door with that note, but I can take him back now…"

I    don't know how much longer Mickey coulda gone on, but Hutch's eyes were beginnin' to look a little glazed and he's a pushover, anyway, so I took charge.

"MICKEY!!" I hollered.  

Everyone turned to look at me.  I cleared my throat.  "Now look, Mickey, you can't just go leavin' babies on people's doorsteps," I began reasonably, "you never know if someone else is gonna take them or if the person you're leavin' it for isn't goin' to be home that night, or if some dog's gonna come along and attack it.  It's just not safe…"

"But I…"

Hutch finally came alive.  "Mickey," he said sternly, "promise me you won't ever do this again."  I noticed he was unconsciously beginnin' to bounce Mark.  "If you ever do something like this again, I'm gonna arrest you for child abuse," he said solemnly.  Mickey swallowed hard.

"Yeah, Hutch, okay.  I'm not gonna have him much longer, anyway – Celia comes back tonight…"

I had an idea.  "Mickey," I interrupted this time, "next time Celia needs a babysitter, let Hutch 'n me know, huh?  We can help."  Hutch looked at me, surprised.  But he wasn't complain-in'.

Mickey brightened.  "Really?  You wouldn't mind?  Oh, that'd be terrific!" she said hap-pily.  "Thank you!"  She reached up to kiss Hutch, who immediately began to turn pink again, then me.  After that, Hutch reluctantly turned back to the basket sitting on the coffee table and gently placed Mark back in it, carefully tucking the blanket in around him and his bag at the foot of the basket.  "Hey, Mark," he said softly, "you have to go now.  I'll see you later, though, okay?  You be good."  Guess no one ever taught Hutch about babytalk.  Mark looked at him so seriously, though, I wondered if he understood.  Then, Hutch untangled himself from the little fist that held on to his finger, and stepped back.

It was my turn next, but I didn't get so mushy.  Soon, Mickey was goin' out the door, car-ryin' the basket, and Hutch crossed over to the window to watch her walk up the street.  I went over behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.  

"Gonna miss him, huh?" I asked softly.  

"Yeah."  Just as soft.  

I smiled a little at the back of his head, squeezed his shoulder.  "Don't worry, we'll see him again."  I didn't get a response, but I could tell he accepted that.  After a minute, I cheerfully added, "Well, look at the bright side.  You still got me!"  

I got the reaction I hoped for.  Hutch groaned loudly as he turned back toward me.  

It was the best pillow fight we'd had in a long time.  

 


End file.
